


Benjamin Thackerey's Christmas

by Sturzkampf



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Christmas, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 04:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: From the Memoirs of Professor Sir Benjamin Thackerey FRSW DMg KCMGJust what the World needs – another sentimental Christmas story





	Benjamin Thackerey's Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> _Contains minor spoilers for ‘Curtain Call’_   
>  _Heylir has already posted an excellent story on how Ben, Wolfe and Mal spent their first Christmas together. You can compare our efforts[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13299357)._

“Ah, only another week and it will be Christmas,” exclaimed Heinrich Wolfe. looking down the grey street as though it were beautiful. “This is the most wonderful time of the year, is it not?”

“No,” I replied.

We were walking back through the streets of Widdershins, ploughing through the slush. It had snowed two days before and now the thaw was starting to set in. Now I like snow for the first hour or so after it falls, when the untidy and disorganised world is hidden by a beautiful clean white uniform blanket. It never lasts of course. All too soon the wheels of the town turn to plough up the roads into a horrible icy liquid mud, industrious people with shovels shred the smooth blankets into rags and the brilliant white is darkened by the smoke of a thousand coal fires. Then comes the thaw, and the entire sparkling order of the world melts into slippery grey slush that soaks everything and at night freezes into a jagged malicious sheet of ice. I hate the winter and I hate the snow. Wolfe walked through the mess without a care in the world, as though he were entirely unaware of the state of our boots. He seemed surprised by lack of Christmas Spirit.

 “But surely it is a time for celebration and being together with your loved ones is it not? Alas, I cannot be with my Uncle and his family back in Bartenstein, but since the unfortunate incident where I had to… leave the army, I am not welcome at home. Ah, no doubt even now they will be bringing home the Christmas Tree.”

“The Christmas Tree? Whatever is that?”

“At this time of year, all the family go into the forest and we find a nice fir tree, cut it down and then bring it back to the house.”

“What for firewood?”

“Why no. We take it into the parlour, put it in a large pot and then decorate it with coloured ribbons and candles.”

“You bring a tree, _a whole tree_ , into the house? But the mess! It will drop pine needles everywhere! Not to mention all the verminous creatures that are bound to inhabit it! And then you light _candles_ in it?! Next to ribbons! Think of the fire risk! I have never heard of such a preposterous thing in all my life!”

“Alas, I can see that this is one German tradition that will not catch on in Britain.”

“Not in my house at least!”

“Never mind. Doubtless you will be spending the holiday season with your family too? Will you travel to see your parents in London?”

“No, I’m afraid not. The journey at this time of year is too difficult, and neither they nor I can afford the cost of the new railway to make the journey.”

“But you have relatives here in Yorkshire do you not? The wealthy inventor Mr Cunningham is your grandfather. And is not the noted hunter Ms Verity Cunningham also a relative?”

“Yes, I will indeed be spending Christmas with my extended family at Cunningham Manor. It is something of a family tradition.”

“Ah Prima! So good for you to be with your relatives.” He stopped and looked at me. “But no, I do not hear the happiness in your voice that should be there. What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong!” I snapped. “Why should there be anything wrong! I always spent Christmas with the whole family! How could there be a happier Christmas?!”

“Ah, er, I see,” replied Wolfe. I immediately felt guilty at my ill humour. It was hardly Wolfe’s fault, and being disobliging to him is like kicking a puppy.

“Sorry. I did not mean to be rude. Only Christmas is not a time I especially enjoy, particularly now that my parents’ circumstances mean that they don’t come up to the manor anymore.”

“You do not enjoy being with your family?” Wolfe, an exile far from home, was clearly having trouble grasping the concept.

“I suppose it doesn’t start too badly. Grandfather sends a carriage to pick me up to take me to the Church on his estate for the morning service. Then we all walk the short distance to the Manor for the rest of Christmas day.”

“It is good of him to send a carriage for you.”

“Yes, I suppose it is, but then it means I am trapped. I cannot leave to come home until grandfather is gracious enough to call out the carriage again.”

“The celebrations last all day then?”

“Only a day, but it sometimes seems like a year. Once we get to the house, we all stand around in the morning room, jostling for position in front of the fire so we can get the circulation back to our extremities, and Grandfather serves some quite excellent sherry.”

“There is nothing like a bracing drink to start a celebration!”

“Perhaps, even though I only drink in moderation. Still, it would be nice if they glass was somewhat larger. Grandfather does not believe in intoxicating beverages, but he does allow this one small exception at Christmas. After that there is no more alcohol for the rest of the day – not even a sniff of port to go with the Stilton!”

“But you get to talk with your family, yes?”

“I suppose it is good to talk with everyone. For the most part, it is the only time I see them. But to be honest, half-an-hour per year is quite sufficient. My Grandfather tends to treat me like a fool, cousin Verity is pleasant enough when we are alone, but as soon as anyone else is present seems to take a delight in humiliating me, and the rest of the family have nothing of interest to say to me, nor I to them.”

“Are not your brother and sister on the staff at the University? You can talk to them of wizardly things.”

“They don’t let me forget they both obtained first class degrees from Widdershins University, while I obtained a duff third from the duff University of Oxford. I think that is the term that most people use to describe it.”

“Um…” Wolfe had the good grace to at least pretend to look embarrassed.

“I do try and engage the family in intelligent conversation. You know, one year it seemed I could never get a word in edgeways. Whenever I tried to make a point someone would interrupt me. On the other hand, if I paused, there was a gap in the conversation as though they were waiting for me to speak. In the end I realised they were doing it deliberately, just to annoy me.”

“Ah, family fun and games?”

“Fun and games? I’m glad you think it was funny. What they were doing was drawing a line; a line between them and me; showing me that they were a group on one side and that I was excluded, that I didn’t fit their norms – and because of that, they were treating me with contempt, because they could.”

“Ah. Oh dear.”

“Once my good humour has been exhausted, it is time for the Grand Christmas Dinner.”

“Ah! Goose with all the trimmings! Surely that cannot be so bad. I am sure your grandfather must have an excellent chef, although not French I trust.”

“No, we must be thankful for small mercies. The chef is indeed an Englishwoman with a fine understanding of how proper food should be cooked, so the goose does at least taste like a goose, rather than being covered with some bizarre-tasting sauce, and we are spared the horror of crunchy vegetables.”

“It sounds as though it should be a fine and enjoyable meal. But from your voice, it sounds as though you do not enjoy it.”

“The problem is that Grandfather has these grand notions of equality, so he gives most of the staff Christmas Day off so they can be with their families.”

“A fine idea.”

“I suppose so. But the problem is, that means we all have to fend for ourselves during the meal, instead of having the food served up for us. All the vegetables are placed in dishes in the middle of the table, and we help ourselves. Everyone reaches across everyone else, with their elbows in my face, and I must wait so long for all the different vegetables to be passed up and down the table that my food is cold before everyone is finally ready to eat. The dining room in Grandfather’s house may be big, but for some reason he’s never bought a dining table big enough for the entire family to sit round in comfort, so we’re all crammed in like sardines and I get elbowed while I’m trying to eat my dinner before the bread sauce sets.”

“That does not sound… ah… as good as it should be.”

“Indeed. Then, after Christmas dinner, we all go into the drawing room and the children get out the board games.”

“Ah, and then they pester you to play? How tedious for you.”

“Something like that.” I didn’t like to admit that I like games with lots of rules, but since I’d caught little Hetty cheating a few years ago and made a fuss, I was not allowed to play anymore.

“It gets worse. After everyone has sat around all afternoon and I have been bored out of my brain, everyone having long ago run out of anything to say – not that it stops some of my more annoying relatives - then we all must troop back into the dining room for Christmas tea. There’s another round of being squashed in too close together, another round of everyone reaching over and round each other. And it’s all lettuce and cucumber and things that no-one in their right mind actually likes! Even the tea is cold by the time you get any!”

“Ah.”

“Finally, the meal is over, and we can all go into the parlour. But is there any respite? There is not! No, then, someone sits down at the piano and we have a ‘sing-song’! And sing the most, crass sentimental popular songs you can imagine – always something that is ‘the latest thing’; some awful piece of music someone’s picked up at random from a street vendor. I think the low point comes when the family insists on Uncle Ruben singing his special party piece.”

“Not a song that you like then? What is it?”

“I don’t know! He can never remember the wretched words! For years I’ve listened to him struggling through this awful song and I still have no idea what it’s supposed to be! But he takes it so seriously and we must sit there and suffer in silence and make complimentary remarks when he finally gives up!  Then, the children get out their musical instruments and give us a little concert. It’s… it’s… no, sorry I can’t go on. And their parents always look so proud.” I could not resist a shudder at the terrible memories.

“Finally, the day is rounded off with cups of truly horrible cocoa of Grandfather’s own devising, and then, at last, the carriages come to the door and after a further wasted half-an-hour of everyone saying goodbye to each other, I can finally have the privilege of a long, cold and uncomfortable ride home, where I can at last go to bed. And that, Herr Wolfe, is my Christmas Day!”

“Oh…”

“And you know what the most vexing thing about Christmas is? All year long I have been working hard and by the Christmas holiday I am ready for a break. A chance to do all the things I have never had time to do during the year. Read my new book. Perhaps spend some time writing my memoirs. Even enjoying the simple pleasure of sitting on my own with good food and a half-decent bottle of port and relaxing. But no! I have to spend the few moments of time that I might have to enjoy myself in the company of people that I do not like and who do not like me, doing things that I hate or sitting around doing nothing at all!”

“Alas that is not the way that you should spend your Christmas. A wise man once wrote that this will be what Hell is like.”

We arrived back at our offices, I unlocked the door and went inside, feeling a little guilty. Wolfe didn’t deserve to be harangued like that. It wasn’t his fault.  

\-------------------------*

Christmas day dawned, and Grandfather’s carriage arrived at my office to take me away for the day’s entertainment, leaving Wolfe and O’Malley behind. The thought of O’Malley unsupervised added a new annoyance to the day. Now, even when I finally arrived back that night, I knew that I would not be able to go straight to bed, but would have to spend at least another hour clearing up the mess that O’Malley had made just to annoy me.

 I met the family at Church at usual. Frankly, I am not much of a Church-goer, but I do enjoy the Christmas service, or at least I would have done if Matthew and Veronica’s children hadn’t spoiled it by sniggering and whispering and generally trying to disrupt everyone else’s pleasure as much as possible. I could see the rector was annoyed, but of course the doting parents did nothing to control their obnoxious little brats. I took comfort in reading a favourite passage from the Bible; 2 Kings 2:23-25.

Then we all walked back to the Manor for the sherry. As usual, the first half an hour of the family gathering wasn’t all that bad. The sherry was extremely good, even if the glass had apparently been made by a teetotaller, and finding out what my various relatives had been up to the last year filled any uncomfortable silences. Cousin Verity even asked me about how the malform removal business was going, although after I’d got two sentences into my exciting adventures at the Lamp Oil Factory, she monopolised the conversation with talk of her Hunter’s activities. Apparently, she had just been hired by some showman’s assistant and was planning a trip to Pontefract, but I forget the details. I had heard from everyone and was desperately trying to think of something else to say for the rest of the day that stretched ahead of me when a maid appeared at the door of the morning room.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said to Grandfather, “but there’s a foreign gentleman at the front door, asking for Master Benjamin. He says it’s urgent.”

“Foreign?!” spluttered Uncle Ruben, “What, you mean from _Kent_? Tell the blighter we don’t want any! And make him go to the tradesmen’s entrance first!”

“Er, no sir I think he’s from _abroad_.” She said the word in the same way that she might have said ‘from Hell’.

“Well Benjy,” said Verity, “if it’s important, you’d better see what he wants.”

“I don’t know, invitin’ foreigners round. Young people today…”

I followed the maid to the front door. Heinrich Wolfe was standing on the doorstep.

“Ah Ben. I am so glad that I found you! There is a grave situation regarding a b*g – I mean a malform in Widdershins. Only you can save the situation. You must come at once!”

“But… how will I get there? I can hardly ask Grandfather to get his carriage out just for me! And how did you get you get here so fast.”

“I hired a Hackney carriage.”

“What! On Christmas Day! How much did that cost!”

“Don’t worry. We will charge it to the client as expenses.”

“Very well. I will say my goodbyes and be with you in a moment.”

I went back into the morning room to make my apologies to Grandfather and the rest of the family. Wolfe followed me, although I don’t remember him being invited in. He took the opportunity to explain that it was vital I return to town at once to deal with a dire emergency. I think some of the younger members of the family might actually have been impressed. The twins looked vaguely amused and reminded me that they could always come and help if I couldn’t deal with it on my own. They didn’t bother to hide their disdain.

The maid arrived with my overcoat and Wolfe hurried me out of the room. Clearly, he was very worried about the situation. I wondered where O’Malley was – or whether he _was_ the problem. We climbed into the Hackney carriage, the driver whipped up the horse and the carriage departed down the drive at a brisk trot. Once we were through the front gates Wolfe reached into his jacket pocket, produced two glasses of sherry and handed one of them to me. I have no idea how he had manged to carry them without spilling a drop, but many of the things he does are beyond my comprehension.

“Where did you get those?” I asked.

“Ah, you said you never get enough sherry, so I had a quiet word with the maid.”

“I’m sure you did. You know, these glasses are somewhat larger than the ones we usually get.”

“She was a very pleasant, accommodating young woman.”

“And you are meeting her in town for a drink on her next night off I presume.”

“Why yes. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Now, what is this dire emergency that only I can deal with?”

“It will be easier for you to see the situation than for me to explain it,” and no more clarification could I get from him for the rest of the journey.

\------------------*

We drove to back into Widdershins, to the area east of the river, a district of large houses that were once the homes of the wealthy, but had gone into decline since all the fashionable people moved into the new developments built to the south of the University after the war. With so many large houses in a poor state of repair going cheap, there was only one possible outcome; they were bought up by landlords and converted into student flats. Of course, at Christmas, most of the flats were empty as the students were back home for the vacation, but there were still one or two candles burning behind the dirty windows.

We pulled up in front of a well-built stone house that had once been a fine home, but was now in a sorry state of decay. Of course, my own combined office and flats was also in a sorry state of decay, despite my best efforts, but the difference was that, being an ex-council building, it had always been like that since the day it was built at the minimum possible cost.

Wolfe paid off the Hackney carriage, with a generous tip if the reaction of the driver was anything to go by. Only when the carriage was half way down the street did it occur to me that he had forgotten to ask for a receipt. That was going to make the final invoice to the client more difficult. I hoped that Wolfe could remember how much he had paid and that the client wouldn’t quibble over the cost. Looking up and down the street, I reflected that it was obviously out of term time; there were hardly any puddles of vomit adding a splash of colour to the drab grey slush.  Wolfe knocked at the door and O’Malley opened it at once. From his disgruntled expression and the pile of disgusting roll-up dogends at his feet, he had clearly been waiting for us to arrive for some time.

“Is everything ready?” asked Wolfe.

“Aye,” replied O’Malley. “We’re all been waitin’ around for you to get ‘ere. Wha’ took yer?”

“Alas, Cunningham Manor is at the edge of the town, and it took some time for us to get back.”

I was still puzzled. Where was this dire emergency that only I could deal with? The house was far too quiet and far too orderly for a malform to be loose. Unless of course, it was one of the extremely dangerous ones.

“Go to the top floor, second door on the left,” said Wolfe. I walked up the dimly lit stairs with trepidation. Like most student houses it had not been cleaned properly for some time, possibly several years. I dreaded to think what terrible diseases I might catch from touching the bannisters. I reached the top floor – the garret rooms, the cheapest in the house. The second door on the left was ajar. I walked in carefully, wary of an ambush predator. Wolfe and O’Malley followed me. A pretty Chinese girl was waiting in the room. She wore the threadbare but carefully repaired clothes of the respectable poor. A single meagre candle did its best to supplement the gloomy daylight seeping in through the tiny window. At least the room had been kept tidy and reasonably clean. I saw a couple of books on the single shelf; standard magical text books, the unmistakeable mark of the industrious student. The carpet had been rolled back and on the floor were drawn not one, but two magic circles. Although I did not immediately recognise them, one was quite obviously for summoning and the other for desummoning. A strange arrangement indeed. Wolfe made the introductions.

“Ben, this is Ms Wong, who has had the misfortune to summon a b*gg… er… a malform, and would like you to desummon it please. Ms Wong, this is Mr Thackerey, the wizard.”

“Pleased t’meet you sir,” said Ms Wong. My greeting came out as an incoherent monosyllable. Pretty girls have that effect on me. There was an awkward moment of silence.

“Not gone home for Christmas?” I asked, trying to think of something to say.

“No sir, it’s too far for me to go ‘ome for the Christmas,” she replied. “I can’t afford the fare.”

“Oh, you come from Beijing perhaps?” She gave me a reproachful look.

 “No sir, from Limehouse.”

“Ah… so let us get this malform desummoned, once we catch it of course. O’Malley, do you have any idea where it might be.”

“Yeah, ‘e’s right there in th’ circle, waitin’ for ye to send ‘im ‘ome.” O’Malley gestured to the desummoning circle. “’e says, could ye get on wi’ it, ‘cos ‘e’s got places ‘e’d rather be.”

This was making less and less sense. If you are summoning a spirit, it can be desummoned and released from within the summoning circle. You only need a desummoning circle to send home a spirit if it has escaped its binding, or if it has become a malform. Was Ms Wong so unsure of herself that she had drawn the desummoning circle in advance in case she created a malform? But if the malform was already in the desummoning circle, why had she not desummoned it herself, rather than going to the expense of calling us in? And where was this ‘dire emergency?’”

Still here we were and here the malform was. I walked into the desummoning circle. My foot contacted something soft that moved. “Sorry,” I said, feeling somewhat foolish at apologising to thin air.

“Yeah, mind where ye’re treading,” complained O’Malley, making a play of moving something in the circle that only he could see so I had room to sit down.

“What is the malform?” I asked Ms Wong.

“Um…,” she said looking embarrassed. I thought I recognised the expression. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense.

“It’s something on the proscribed list isn’t it,” I retorted. “I should report you for this!”

“Now Ben,” Wolfe remonstrated. “Let us not be too hasty. It is Christmas Day, is it not?”

“That is beside the point! If this young lady has been performing dangerous summons then she should be reported the University Authorities! Or even the police!” Ms Wong looked scared, as well she might. She looked from Wolfe to me and back with wide frightened eyes. I had a sudden moment of unease as I wondered what exactly might be sitting inside the circle with me.

“Co-operation,” said Wolfe. “She was summoning co-operation. Or I should say, not summoning it.”

“Co-operation? But that’s completely innocuous! Why would you summon co-operation?”

“Because its malform would be easy to catch of course,” replied Wolfe. The girl looked at him uncertainly. “It is fine,” he assured her. He turned to me. “Now, my friend, if you would do the desummons…”

Feeling more confused than ever, I said the words for the desummoning ritual, saw the room illuminated by the familiar blue-green glow of the circle, felt the spell catch and push against something, and then the co-operative malform had returned from whence it came. I lowered the circle, stood up and brushed the dust from my trousers. They were not as dirty as I had feared.

 “Let us settle the payment and we shall be on our way,” Wolfe said to Ms Wong. From her appearance, I wondered if she would be able to afford our standard fee, let alone the expense of that Hackney carriage. Wolfe took out his pocket book, but instead of the usual invoice to the client, he produced a banknote and gave it to the student. “Here,” he said, “I think this should cover the amount that we agreed, with a little extra for your time on Christmas Day.” The student’s face lit up as she took the money.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, and I do believe she made a little curtsy. “This will ‘elp me so much, ‘specially now at Christmas.” I stood watching the entire farce in open-mouthed amazement.

“Wolfe, what on earth is going on?”

“Ah, friend Ben, I think we are, as you say, ‘done’. I fear that I have sent the Hackney carriage away, so, alas, you will not be able to return to Cunningham Manor to spend the rest of the day with your relatives. Walk back with me to our office while I explain everything.” He took his leave of Ms Wong, even bending down to kiss her hand, which delighted her more than was entirely respectable. I said a more formal goodbye. Then we left the building and set off back towards home, wading through the horrible slush and mud of the winter street. O’Malley grumbled something incomprehensible and slouched off in the other direction. The time had come for an explanation.

“Did you just pay a client to desummon a malform?” I demanded.

“No, I paid the wizard who I hired to summon it. Or rather to summon it incorrectly.”

“What! Why?”

“To create a malform of course.”

“But… why did you want a malform?”

“So you could desummon it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ah here we are at home. Come inside and everything will be clear.”

I unlocked the door and walked inside. My first instinct was to reach for my apron to start clearing up after O’Malley, but to surprise the floor was entirely clear of discarded disgusting roll-up dogends, unwashed plates or half-empty cups of cold tea. In fact, everything was arranged, if not perfectly, then in a quite acceptable manner. The fire behind the guard had been built up and was filling the room with a pleasant warmth. Next to the best armchair was a small table laden with food, a wine glass and a decanter. Someone had collected several books – my books I saw – and placed them by the chair.

 “Here is, your armchair by the fire,” said Wolfe, “with plenty of good Yorkshire coal in the bucket to keep the fire burning. Here are all the books you have wanted to read in the last few months, but have never had the time. Here is a pie all the way from Melton Mowbray, a box of Huntley’s biscuits, a cheese that appears to have gone bad about 2 months ago but is I am told a very nice Stilton, mince pies, some madeira cake and a quite excellent decanter of port. I have cleaned the room already, so all you need to do is sit here, read your books, eat the food (even the Stilton, if you must) and drink the port.”

 “And what will you do?” I knew that while O’Malley was in the same building, it would be quite impossible for me to relax for more than 10 minutes, which is the time it takes him to make, light and smoke one of his disgusting roll-ups and then flick the dog-end onto the carpet, meaning I have to get up, get out the dustpan and brush and clean up after him.

“Fear not! We shall go to the _Hunter’s Folly_ , where we will spend a happy day joining the Christmas revelries.”

“Will O’Malley like that? Noisy parties are difficult for him.”

“It is good that you think of him. Fear not, I have reserved a small alcove where he can shelter from the blinding glare of the crowd. Anyway, I find that the effects of his ‘gift’ are much reduced if I pour a large quantity of your horrible English ale down his throat and this I will do to the best of my ability.”

“You mean, you have arranged all this malform creation as an excuse to get me away from my family and bring me back home to all the things I enjoy?”

“Yes, the plan has worked very well I think.”

“But why have you done this for me?” For a moment, Wolfe looked puzzled, as though he didn’t understand the question.

“Why? Because I can. What other reason do I need?”

“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you is all you need to say. Helping your friends at Christmas is reward enough in itself, yes? Now, I will join Mal ‘down the pub’ as I believe the expression is, and leave you in peace. Do not wait up.”

He left and closed the door behind him. I took away the fire guard, poked the fire, poured myself a modest glass of port, cut a large piece of Stilton, picked up my book and settled into the good armchair. Then I spent Christmas Day alone. It was the best Christmas of my life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> _Benjamin Thackerey, Heinrich Wolfe, Jack O’Malley, Verity Cunningham, the Hunter’s Folly and the world of Widdershins are the creations of Kate Ashwin._
> 
> _If you liked this story, you might be interested in[how Agatha Heterodyne spent her Christmas Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2695109)._   
> 


End file.
